


Dogs of Carnage

by GhoulSpit (orphan_account)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Add more later - Freeform, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst with a Happy Ending, Animal Ears, Animal Transformation, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Betrayal, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hostile, Humanoid, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Mental Instability, Mood Swings, Paranoia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Praise Kink, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Self-Lubrication, Sick Character, Sickfic, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 21:20:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7285180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/GhoulSpit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I would like to take this space up here to thank my wonderful beta, judaiandjohan! They have been absolutely wonderful to work with and very helpful! I hope we can continue this arrangement!<br/>Now, this fic will have a lot of emotional/mental issues when it comes Hanamaki. There will also be quite a few graphic gore scenes, so please be warned. Anyway, I got this idea from CraziiWolf's Haikyuu AU on Tumblr and Instagram! She is currently writing a KageHina fic called Midnight Moon on her Wattpad(https://www-new-01.wattpad.com/user/craziiwolf) So, shout out to her! I've got nothin' else to put here so; please enjoy! Constructive criticism is appreciated, tell me what you think in the comments and I will see you next time~</p>
    </blockquote>





	Dogs of Carnage

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to take this space up here to thank my wonderful beta, judaiandjohan! They have been absolutely wonderful to work with and very helpful! I hope we can continue this arrangement!  
> Now, this fic will have a lot of emotional/mental issues when it comes Hanamaki. There will also be quite a few graphic gore scenes, so please be warned. Anyway, I got this idea from CraziiWolf's Haikyuu AU on Tumblr and Instagram! She is currently writing a KageHina fic called Midnight Moon on her Wattpad(https://www-new-01.wattpad.com/user/craziiwolf) So, shout out to her! I've got nothin' else to put here so; please enjoy! Constructive criticism is appreciated, tell me what you think in the comments and I will see you next time~

Dogs of Carnage  
Fandom: Haikyuu  
Ship: MatsuHana (Matsukawa x Hanamaki)  
Werewolf AU

Chapter One: Wounds

Twigs and leaves snapped under the hulking mass of a large wolf. His pinkish brown fur was covered in dried blood and dirt that clung to his prodigious body, adding onto the wind resistance and stealing away precious seconds.

A dark veil of clouds obscured the luminescence of the moon, making it increasingly difficult for him to find his way through the winding paths of trees. He was nearly blind, causing his maladroit body to stumble about and allowing him to collide with the bough of several trees that had hidden in the darkness and capered in front of him at the last possible moment. Every time he would barrel into these large bodies of rotting timber and dead roots at full force,it struck the sense out of him for brief periods of time.

With each stagger of his steps, with every falter in movement, they drew nearer. The hunters with their flying spears and rods of metal that spat fire, they would attack mercilessly. It was only equitable after what the wolves had done for so long. With every flock of sheep murdered, every herd of cattle slaughtered, and every harras of war horses massacred, the execration felt by those men grew stronger and more malevolent.

However, it'd been centuries since his kind terminated large groups of animals. Over the years, they had learned the true dominion of man. Simple creatures, werewolves were not. While, here and there, one may find a wolf who would seem quite dense, the general population had always exhibited immense brilliance. But that didn’t matter to the village men, oh no. They’d always had it stuck in their minds, laced in their programming that wolves were malicious creatures who only wished death upon any human they were to find. The single most problematic misconception ever conceived in human history. Oh no, the wolves no longer wished death upon man.

They simply wished to survive.

The entire pack had been ravenous in those winter months. Ravenous and cold. It’s all that any of them wanted to simply stay warm and find food but, the den wasn’t superb when it came to blocking out the winds. And with the other animals in the forest doing just as poorly as they, coming across a decent meal was infrequent to say the least.

With his mother starving to death, one young, presumptuous wolf felt as though it would be an effortless chore to garner something as simple as a sheep or calf. But, no such luck.

Such insolence had him running for his life through the pitch black taiga, as he acquired the lamentable privilege of attempting his escape. But the hunters, the _murderers_ , pursuing him were relentless and apoplectic. It’d been the first time the young wolf had ever genuinely feared that his life would be yanked out from under him and he would be met with a pain greater than anything he’d experienced hitherto.

Adrenaline lit his body up like fire, each stride amplifying in length as his heart raced, just as the war horses those dreadful men rode were racing toward him.

He didn’t think it was possible, but he’d began to pick up speed. He guided the men off of the twisting bridleway, into the prodigious darkness of the forested land, and up toward the voluminous, infinite land of the mountains. If he could only make it through the valley, he would be able to find the pack and hide behind his mother like the terrified pup he was. At nineteen years of age, he would be a man if he were human. But for a creature who did not capitulate to the wishes of father time, he was nothing more than a whelp.

He could see the incline of the land, where the treeline diminished immensely. He would have to climb up the mountain trails to locate the den. But first, he had to lose those monstrous creatures.

He could not allow those vile  predators to follow him home, and risk the entire Acadian Wolf population. If the Acadian population were to weaken, Creole Wolves would take over the land and slaughter any Acadian they came across. It would be the end of his breed. He could not allow that to happen.

He cantered along the edge of the mountains, climbing up the incline a bit, just to dart back down and create the largest discommode he could in hopes that the hunters would grow bored and view him as a trivial task. But these huntsmen were obdurate and would dismiss any notion that may have come into mind about allowing their prey to escape. He had to keep running, he couldn’t slow down now. But, epinephrine only lasted so long.

The weight of his limbs began to oppress his movements. His joints were becoming inflexible, each motion causing the nexus in his body to exact revenge for the exertion by propelling a suffocating eruption of agony through his already aching structure. He’d never wished to give up to a greater extent in his entire life. But as of right then and there, it was fight or flight. And with at least twelve huntsmen on his tail, fighting would be a doltish action. He would never lose them at this rate. He’d have to find a way to disincentivize them.

And that’s when he’d composed a hypothesis. A man on a horse - a man and horse fitted with solid iron war armor, mind you - weighed much greater than a young werewolf and would surely be unable to cross a frozen inland sea. With it being the dead of winter, the waters were nearly solid with ice. But too much pressure would most definitely cause a fault to form and end with a frozen soldier.

He skidded along the snow, spraying frost in all directions as his strides increased in speed once more. All he had to do was make it a bit further. After he made it to the lake, he would simply loiter there until those stupid men gave up. Surely they would before morning.

It was too cold for their delicate human skin, skin so svelte that it could tear easier than parchment. There was no possibility of them lasting the night. He had his thick, brownish-pink fur to keep him warm. Though, he was less than thrilled about the addition of dirt and dried sheeps blood. Something that would most likely be accompanying him until spring rolled around and he could wade around in the lukewarm waters without the perturbation of freezing to death. But that thought was picayune of attention at the moment. He had to focus.

It took him too long to find the large pond. But once he did, he bounded forward at full force, disconcerned with how arduous it would be when he attempted to halt. He skidded across the ice, his claws digging into the frozen ground in an attempt to create some friction to slow his momentum. He eventually did slide to a stop in the middle of the lake and with that, he released a sigh. His bright tourmaline coloured eyes scanned the edge of the waters until he found the group of men.

He gave them a challenging look as he laid down on the ice to cool his scorching skin. There was a long period of hushed speech and angry growls from the men. The wolf boy had since lied his head down over his furry forearms and closed his eyes to rest. He was dog-tired - pun intended - and all he could think of doing was to idle there on the frozen tarn.

That was until he heard the distinct splintering of fallen branches and crunching of packed snow under hooves. His ears perked high on his head as his morganite tinted eyes glared toward the huntsmen who had begun to disperse around the tarn in a circular formation. He’d seen this, wolves did this as a way to ensure prey didn’t escape. How dare they use a tactic so wolf-esque against him? It was poignant. He stood, but as soon as he did, his large body collapsed, hardly able to brace his massive weight.

A vicious growl escaped him as he watched - what seemed to be - their leader smirk at him with malign elation. The man piloted his horse forward, forcing the unwilling creature onto the ice. He could hear the ice crackleing under the unbearable weight of the two, but that didn’t seem to deter the huntsman one bit.

Without warning, the war horse reared up on its hind legs, allowing its forelegs to impact the rime. In repercussion, the ice on the lake shifted and groaned. The man repeated this process. The wolf struggled to his feet, legs shaking in residence. Ultimately, the ice broke, sending cracks to form throughout the entire body of solid water.

He glowered at the man. That lone soldier was the only one over there, he’d be able to bound right past the man and the other men will be none the wiser, awaiting him on the opposing side as he ran homeward bound.

He propelled himself forward with as much speed as he could manage. He heard the man yell somethings, but his tired mind was far too foggy to translate and comprehend what the words were. ‘Run, get home, lay down’ were the only three thoughts circulating through his bleary mind. He hurled himself forward, building impetus as swiftly as he was able.

The ice was splintering under him, allowing his foot to slip into the numbing water. At one point, three of his paws were caught under the ice, the sharp, glass-like glaze was digging into his flesh and eventually tearing into the ligaments, separating the muscle from the bone of his back legs. He just hoped to whatever deranged deity that dictated his fate that he would be able to escape and make his way back home. If only said deity was merciful, but it seemed, she was not.

He hauled his mass up from the bloody shards of ice, ripping any left over skin that had previously been attached to his ankles. He whimpered, pulling his burden up and into the snow on the bank. He’d thought that he had outsmarted those damned huntsmen but this omission may have just cost him his pelt.

Despite the pain in his hind legs, he pushed forward, dragging himself along. The aftermath of his presence being marked in a trail of blood, like a demented retelling of _Hansel and Gretel_. The sounds of hoofbeats behind him echoed throughout the forest, the sounds bouncing from the trees and into his ears, tormenting him as the prospect of his demise grew to be more probable.

He stumbled up to the packed, muddy snow that was the pathway. He needed stable ground to run on, it would get him farther at a quicker pace. To his dismay, he jumped, landing just off of the trail and all he could hear was the snap of a metal hinge as he felt a sudden burst of biting affliction to his left ankle. A bellowing howl released from his throat which would morph into humanistic screams of suffering.

His body didn’t know how to manage the agonizing pain and began to try shifting into whatever form would handle the pain better. In all reality, it only made things that much harder on him. Each time his body shifted, the tendons and muscle in his already cut-up leg would stretch and lacerate against the iron teeth.. The talus had completely shattered under the crushing, oppressive weight of the trap. He yanked and pulled at his leg, attempting to wretch the appendage from the razor-edged teeth of the trap.

The Huntsmen caught up to him, following the sounds of his pained cries. He could hear the crunch of snow under boot approaching him at a tantalizingly slow pace. A sudden blunt force trauma caused his shifting to abruptly discontinue when a burdensome foot landed between his scapula. And so he lay, in a humanoid form, naked and trembling in the bite of the snow. A taunting chuckle filled his pointed, canine-esque ears as he pinned them to the back of his head.

Another hunter had gotten off of his horse and stood by his leader’s side just to glare down on his trembling form. His tail curled around his left leg as he held his knees to his chest in a miserable attempt to keep warm. “He’s a cute ‘en, ain’t he?” The subordinate chuckled, causing the wolf boy’s stomach to churn. He didn’t like their despotic gaze, full of concupiscence intent.

A whimper escaped him as he tensed up. His entire body went taut as he felt a big paw on the back of his neck. He hated the way they touched him, the way they defiled him without even sexualizing his body. He found himself wishing for death over whatever sick plan these disgusting men had for him. The one who was holding his neck wretched him up, bending his leg at an awkward angle and causing the bone to scrape against the gelid fangs of the iron trap. He let out a deafening screech as his ankle was jerked from the scarcely ajar confine. His face was tinted red as hot tears spilled from pezzottaite flushed eyes.

He couldn’t hold their gaze. He couldn’t bring himself to face the shame he was experiencing. Caught, trapped in a human form, unable to protect himself in any way. If that bastard would only take his hand off of his nape, he would be able to go wolf and kill them both. But there weren’t only two. There were at least a dozen. He was alone, scared, and completely immobilized. He heard the men conversing about what exactly to do with him and it inevitably ended in the both of them deciding to take him back to their home, lock him up, and see what their general of war wanted to do next.

A collar was placed on him that compressed his nape, making it impossible for him to shift. He was draped over the back of their “leader’s” horse, the man keeping a hand on the middle of his back as the horse trotted, bending his ribcage at unnatural angles and making it hard to breathe.

He knew he’d made a horrible mistake. A mistake he would most likely wouldn’t survive through.

End of chapter one.  
TBC

**Author's Note:**

> I will try to have this fic updated every Thursday but please understand that both my beta and I have jobs and home/social lives so that may not happen. Thank you for understanding.


End file.
